metastatic breast cancer

Five Year Mark

Last week, on October 2, I hit the 5-year mark since my former oncologist told me that my cancer had now come back as stage 4. Five years since my life forever changed because that day was a before and an after event. There was before stage 4 and then there was just stage 4.

When that day arrived, it was a mix of emotions for me. First, I am obviously grateful to still be here and have not experienced any progression yet. I also felt a bit of grief and sadness. I kept thinking about the friends who I have lost who never got to make it to the 5-year mark because why me and not them? I know they wouldn’t want me to think that way but it’s hard not to when you’ve seen so many amazing women have their lives cut short by this disease.

I miss who I used to be. I mourn that life, specifically the body that I used to have. I ran marathons and half marathons. I went to the gym and lifted. I was as strong and I saw my runner friends often, every weekend on our group runs.

At the same time, I am also proud of the person who I used to be. I think deep down, I always knew that cancer wouldn’t be done with me, so I ran. I ran and ran and ran. I gave this disease something to chase, and I have a wall full of medals from races to show that I did something pretty fucking awesome in between stage 1 and stage 4. Cancer can’t take that from me.

I ended up throwing a party for family and friends this past Sunday. I threw the party together kind of at the last moment, but it worked. When I found out my uncle, who requires the use of a walker or scooter, I reached out to my friends to find a handicapped accessible place. My friend, who works at a brewery downtown, suggested Helltown Brewery, and they said yes! Helltown Brewery in the Strip is fantastic, and I strongly recommend the place.

Prior to the party, I was a big bundle of nerves. Back in high school, I tried to throw a party for my work friends and nobody came. My stepmom had bought all these snacks and drinks for my party that never happened, and it freaking crushed me. I sobbed hard for like a solid hour, and afterwards, developed a phobia about throwing parties. (When I came back to Kansas City recently for a visit, the same work friends that broke my heart in high school all came to see me. We aren’t teenagers anymore, of course.)

They came! My fears were unfounded. Not everybody could make it, which I completely understood. I gave people a month and a half warning, and that’s short notice for most people to make any travel plans, etc.

My dad’s family travelled up from Indiana and Kentucky to attend, and my mom’s cousin flew in from Texas to surprise me. It meant so much that they came up to celebrate my 5-year mark. I adore my dad’s side of the family.

My friend Christine found a “Not Dead Yet” headband for me, which made me squeal.

It was a great time, and my friends knew that if they left early, my introverted ass would not mind at all. I was hoping that the party would be fully wrapped up by hour three, haha.

Given my complicated relationship with my dad, step-family and most of my mom’s side of the family, I often feel like I don’t matter or even belong. My five-year party showed that I actually do matter and that my extended family do care. They came and were all happy that I am still here and kicking! I am loved and I do matter.

Take that, cancer.

Every Day

Every day, I am in some kind of pain or discomfort. I’m not writing this to solicit any pity or anything like that. I am trying to be honest about what it’s like to live with metastatic breast cancer.

Ever since my diagnosis almost 5 years ago, my stomach has been trying to murder me. I have had Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) my entire life, but once I learned about my stage 4 diagnosis, my IBS became my number one hater. If I had a nickel for every time I said, “My stomach hurts,” then I could probably pay off the rest of my mortgage.

The other day at the gym. I went to just kneel down on a pad to do an exercise and my knee went, “Haha, I’m going to fuck up your entire day.” It has felt like pressure building underneath my kneecap since yesterday morning. The pain has lessened today but it’s still there when I walk down the stairs.

It’s a real mindfuck when you realize, “Hey, I can’t remember the last time I went a whole day and I felt fine.” I’m either exhausted or my stomach is killing me or my joints are reminding me that I’m a 45 year old woman with stage 4 cancer. However, I am glad that I was always grateful for my “good health” between my stage 1 diagnosis and my stage 4 diagnosis. I used that time to run, run, and then run some more.

The transition from being a 40 year old long-distance runner to a 45 year old stage 4 cancer patient has not been easy. I mourn every day for the Lara I used to be. What does help me, though, is accepting the fact that version of me is gone. I still work full-time, so I get to still straddle between the worlds of everyone else and being a cancer patient.

I write all this as a testament to what it’s been like for me to have stage 4 cancer. It’s a condition that I cannot forgot for one day, although I wish I could.

Huffman sometimes rules

Yesterday, I completed something that I honestly did not think I would be able to do. I finished the Two Face 10K race event in North Park. I haven’t run consistently since 2021, which is when I switched over to just hiking.

However, my five-year mark is coming up on October 2, and I felt like I had something to prove to myself. Honestly, I wanted to really tell stage four breast cancer to fuck all the way off. I still do. The five year mark is a really big deal to me. I know so many of my stage 4 breast cancer patients who never got to see their five year mark.

I didn’t really tell anyone I was doing this until it was closer to the race for a couple of reasons. If I didn’t manage to complete this, I didn’t want everyone to know that I tried this and failed. I also didn’t want anyone to leave comments for me saying I’m inspirational or brave, something like that. Because I’m not inspirational or brave.

I’m pigheaded.

My stomach had been really plaguing me the weeks leading to the race. The day before the race, I had gone to urgent care due to extreme GI problems. I truly did not think I would be able to do this race. What really got me to the finish line (literally) was a good friend of mine signed up for the race, so we would do it together. Plus, the weather was actually nice and cool the other day. I had been training for months in just high heat and humidity, so this weather felt magical.

I don’t think I could have done this without my friend there along the way. When we started the second half of the race, the trail portion, I wiped out and fell. Luckily, it wasn’t a bad fall and just caused some superficial scrapes on the side of my leg. Nothing bad, thankfully.

The 10K trail race actually was almost 7.5 miles, which I was not aware of prior to race day. Haha. I fought like absolutely hell all those 7 miles. There were curse words, and more importantly, it was quality spent with my good friend as we battled together.

When her and I crossed the finish line, I had a group of friends and my fiancee cheering so loudly for me. It was a pretty amazing moment for me. My friends, who had already finished the race, waited for me! I did find out later that at one point, they were wondering if I had maybe gotten eaten by a bear. Honestly, that’s fair. We were supposed to keep a 20 minute pace but ended up being a 23 minute pace.

I did it, though. I finished both races, even though I really didn’t think I could do it.

My five-year mark is now less than two months away, and I got to send a giant fuck you to metastatic breast cancer. Cancer has taken so fucking much from me, but yesterday, I was able to take a swing back at cancer.

I Trust Dr. Pepper More than Dr. Oz

Dr. Mehmet Oz, charlatan extraordinaire, was sworn in as Trump’s administrator for the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) on April 18, 2025. As a stage 4 cancer patient who may need the services of Medicare and/or Medicaid sooner than later, I am both scared and angry that this quack has been appointed to one of the most extremely positions in the country. I am 100 percent certain that Dr. Oz is going to do irreparable harm to those who rely on Medicaid and Medicare.

First of all, what does CMS do? According to the Federal Register,

The Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services (CMS) was created to administer oversight of the Medicare Program and the federal portion of the Medicaid Program. It also ensures that program beneficiaries are aware of the services for which they are eligible and that those services are accessible and of high quality and develops health and safety standards for providers of health care services authorized by Medicare and Medicaid legislation. CMS is also responsible for administering the State Children’s Health Insurance Program (SCHIP), the Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), and several other health-related programs.

It is not an exaggeration to say that this is a very important role in the country, and now it’s being led by … Dr. Freaking Oz. These are the enrollment numbers for Medicaid and CHIP as of November 2024:

During his confirmation hearing, Dr. Oz would not say yes or no if he opposed cuts to Medicaid, according to a March 14, 2025 article in The New Republic.

If you are reading this and wondering why do I care or thinking I just hate him because he is a Trump ally, then let me provide you my reasoning why.

A June 17, 20214 NBC News article stated that Dr. Oz “got a harsh scolding from several senators on Tuesday at a hearing about bogus diet product ads. According to the article, Dr. Oz “admitted he uses ‘flowery’ language on his shows and said he realizes that the moment he recommends a product, the scammers use his words to sell spurious products.” In April 2012, Dr. Oz had touted a green coffee bean extract as a “miracle fat burning pill that works for everyone.”

According to an April 15, 2017 NPR article entitled “Physicians Urge Columbia To Fire Dr. Oz For Promoting ‘Quack Treatments,'” 10 well-regarded physicians in the country called for Columbia to fire Dr. Oz for “repeatedly show[ing] disdain for science and for evidence-based medicine” and “promot[ing] quack treatments for financial gain.”

During Covid, Dr. Oz’s quackery became evident to everyone. HuffPost reported in an April 16, 2020 article that schools should re-open because “only” 2 to 3% more people could die. Dr. Oz told Sean Hannity:

That’s right – a doctor thought it would be okay to sacrifice a percentage of the population. That’s when I realized that Dr. Oz isn’t just a quack, he is a eugenicist.

After he was sworn in, Dr. Oz gave a press conference about his plan and vision for healthcare in the country, and it was textbook eugenics.

“It is your patriotic duty — I’ll say it again — the patriotic duty of all Americans to take care of themselves. It’s important for serving in the military but also important because healthy people don’t consume healthcare resources. The best way to reduce drug spending is to use less drugs, because you don’t need them because you’re healthy.”

It is my “patriotic duty” to take care of myself and when that happens, I won’t need as many drugs because I’m now “healthy.” Holy shit, my stage 4 cancer is cured!

Sarcasm aside, this line of thinking from Dr. Oz is absolutely insidious. By equating good health with “patriotism” and military readiness, us sickies would then be… what? Unpatriotic? If you classify a group of people as being unpatriotic or imply that they are a drain to society, then you can easily justify inflicting pain and suffering on them.

Sick and disabled people are always targets for fascist authoritarian regimes. According to the Holocaust Encyclopedia, “Many Germans did not want to be reminded of individuals who did not measure up to their concept of a ‘master race’ and were considered ‘unfit’ or ‘handicapped.’ People with physical and mental disabilities were viewed as ‘useless’ to society, a threat to Aryan genetic purity, and, ultimately, ‘unworthy of life.'”

Dr. Oz’s statement equates good health with being good Americans and a “good” American is one that can join the military and be ready to die for the country. Both Dr. Oz and Secretary Brainworms keep flapping their mouths about unhealthy Americans but notice how they don’t mention expanding Medicaid to ensure more citizens have access to doctors and perhaps get treated for their ailments or ensuring everyone in the country has access to healthy fruits and vegetables.

They want to take away medications, programs and services, all while blaming us sickies for our own illness. The Trump administration does not care if sick and disabled people die, only that the richest among us stay obscenely rich as possible.

The 5-year Mark

In less than a week, I am going to be turning 45. I have now made it 5 years past the age that my mom was when she died from metastatic breast cancer. Not going to lie, it’s a bit of a mindfuck.

My mom was my roadmap for all things related to my health issues. If Patricia had it, then I sure as shit was going to also experience it. Because she paved the way, I was able to get doctors to take me seriously and screen me when something was amiss. I could look to see what Patricia went through and the doctors would go, “Yeah, sure, let’s order a scan / test / blood draw.”

I am going on five years since my stage 4 diagnosis, which in of itself is an amazing milestone. My mom died six or so months after she learned her cancer was stage 4. I can no longer look to see what happened to my mom and know what’s going to happen next besides, you know, the obvious. In fairness, that happens to us all.

My health matched hers and my face matched hers. Now, as I get older, I look at the lines and wrinkles in my face, and I don’t see my mother anymore. I look for her but she’s been frozen in time at the age of 40. I am being afforded a privilege that was not granted to her, and for that, I am grateful.

One thing that has definitely differed between my mom and myself is family involvement. When my mom was sick, my grandpa would come up from Texas and visit her somewhat often. Meanwhile my dad hasn’t made an effort to come visit me in the past 4.5 years. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, my dad might actually come visit me before the 5 year mark? (Just kidding, he won’t.)

Sometimes I imagine that I live in an alternate reality where my mom never died from this wretched disease. In this scenario, I have a parent that actually checks in with me every week or so to see how I am doing. She was a social worker, so maybe my mom would have been up-to-date with all my scans, bloodwork, and knew to ask me about them without me begging her to care. It would have been nice to have lived in that reality but alas, that’s not the one I currently inhabit.

Last time on the phone, my dad did say he would try and come up to see me. You know what I said? “I really don’t expect anything from you so I’m not holding my breath.”

So happy birthday to me and my parental alienation and abandonment issues!

Being a Cancer Patient in the age of Trump

Ever since Trump was inaugurated, every day, I wake up and wonder, “What fresh hell has the Trump administration unleashed on us today?” Every day, I get an answer to that question, and my stress level just keeps going up and up.

When RFK Jr. was actually confirmed as Secretary of Health and Human Services, I really thought to myself, “We are so fucked. Us sick and disabled people are so fucked.” The government really elected the stupidest mother fucker to make health-based decisions that impacts everyone in this country. For an administration that allegedly is all about “merit-based” hiring, the Trump administration really elevated a brain-wormed, anti-scientist charlatan.

The fact that an anti-vaccine, conspiracy theorist is in charge of the FDA and CDC makes me even more resolute that rich white men will always fall upwards. Would he ever be in this position if his last name was not Kennedy?

According to an April 12, 2025 article in The Hill, measles cases have risen to 700 and the outbreak has spread to 25 states. ProPublica reported on April 11, 2025 that pertussis has increased 1500% nationwide in the country. The article further stated:

The Trump administration has eliminated 20,000 jobs at agencies within HHS, which includes the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the nation’s public health agency. And late last month, the administration also cut $11 billion from state and local public health agencies on the front lines of protecting Americans from outbreaks; the administration said the money was no longer necessary after the end of the pandemic.

Gee, what could potentially go wrong when you cut jobs and money from the nation’s public health agency when diseases like this are on the rise?

In his first interview since becoming HHS, Secretary Brainworms claimed in a CBS interview that he was not aware of the $11 billion in proposed cuts to local and state programs that address infectious disease, mental health, etc., his response was, “No I’m not familiar with those cuts. We’d have to go … the cuts were mainly DEI cuts, which the president ordered.”

The reporter then provided Secretary Brainworms with an example of being eliminated, which was a $750K University of Michigan grant focused on adolescent diabetes, and RFK Jr said that he would look into it.

This administration is a fucking joke, and we are being led by a bunch of Trump kiss asses and sycophants. I get to wake up every day, as an immunosuppressed woman with Stage 4, wondering what disease and potential pandemic is just waiting around the corner. The thing that really makes me angry as all hell is the fact that you know that this administration does not give a single flying fuck about sick and disabled people.

Did you know that last month, the Trump administration withdrew 11 pieces of guidance related to the ADA that helped stores, hotels and other businesses understand their obligation to the law? According to the Yahoo article, one of the pieces of guidance withdrawn was a “document provided a ‘maintenance list’ for retail stores for ensuring aisles, entrances, parking spaces, elevators and restrooms were accessible for disabled customers.”

On April 1, 2025, NPR reported how that Trump administration also dismantled the agency that is responsible for Meals on Wheels and other services for the disabled and elderly. Trump and his rich billionaires do not care if the elderly or disabled die due to their budget cuts.

This is just a fraction of the horror that Secretary Brainworms and Trump are inflicting on the U.S. They do not want to lead or help people. They want to make sure the rich get richer, and us peons go away as quietly as possible. The fact that family members of mine, even my own dad, voted for this train wreck blows my mind. Is making America great again mean bringing back preventable diseases?

Maybe Secretary Brainworms will make my cancer treatment illegal and force me to inject ivermectin? Who knows when we now live in Idiocracy.

Evil Health Trifecta

Buckle up for a story time on how I ended up at the Emergency Room and then two nights in the hospital. I’m okay now or at least, I’m on my way to being okay.

Last Friday evening, my stomach started to do the thing it does where it makes me want to die just a little by making everything, um, explosive. When I woke up last Saturday, I had a splitting headache that didn’t feel like my typical sinus headache. I took Ibuprofen to get rid of the headache, and it took roughly three or four hours for the headache to go away.

Between my stomach problems and headache, the day was not looking good for me.

However, my boyfriend came over to my house in the afternoon to hang out. I was hoping my day could get back on track after such a rough start. We were watching TV, and I was laying on him, as I normally do. I started feeling extremely cold, which is unusual for me. I am never cold. When I began to shiver, I knew something was wrong with me.

I took my temp, and it read 100.4. I took ibuprofen in an effort to break the fever. I really did not want to go to the ER. I re-took my temp before going to bed and it was 99.3. Before going to sleep, I felt confident that I could avoid going to the ER.

When I woke up at 3:30 am on Sunday because of my explosive stomach, I realized that I was wrong. I took my temp and it read 101.2. I called the on-call oncologist, who quickly told me, “Yes, go straight to the ER.”

I asked my neighbor to take me to a community hospital ER because I wanted to generally stay away from people. Honestly, I thought I would just be receiving fluids in the ER and sent home with antibiotics for my fever, but that’s not what happened.

They asked me if I had any cough, and I responded, “Yeah. Just a slight dry cough.” The doctor ordered a chest CT with contrast. Shortly thereafter, the doctor came back to my room to tell me that I had blood clots in both lungs, and they would be admitting me. On top of the blood clots, they diagnosed me with colitis.

It took me several moments to process what they told me. A blood clot? Blood clots? I had no idea. The doctor asked me if I had been experiencing any shortness of breath, and I replied, “Yeah, I noticed shortness of breath when I went up and down stairs, but I just thought it was because I’m fat now.” Other than that, I was not experiencing any other noticeable symptoms.

Since I was being admitted, the community hospital had to get an ambulance to transfer me from their facility to the downtown main hospital. The one tech really lectured the hell out of me for coming to the community hospital when I should have gone to main hospital location. I told him, “I thought I was just coming in for fluids. I had no idea this was happening.” Grr.

I spent three days, two nights in the hospital. I was hooked up to a heperin trip and had my left arm poked and prodded so much that I felt like a human pin cushion. The nurses had to routinely take blood from me to monitor the heperin, and they had to access my veins through my hand and wrist. I am pretty sure you could torture me for information by obtaining blood through my wrist.

After I got home, I used two days to rest up from my three-day stint in the hospital pokey. I am still processing what happened to me. Breast cancer, blood clots, colitis… oh my. Talk about an evil trifecta designed to make me miserable and tired. They sent me home with a starter back of Eliquis, and I’m adjusting to my life on blood thinners.

Once again, I am adjusting to a new normal, and my new normal now involves me being tired quite a bit. Good times, good times.

Love Being Unremarkable

This month has been a busy one with scans and doctor’s appointments, and I am happy to report that I remain stable and unremarkable (*insert joke about my mental health here).

Earlier this month, I had my yearly brain MRI, and I was nervous about this one, to be honest. I have been experiencing more headaches than normal and some ringing in my ears. Happy to report that the brain MRI showed that my brain tumor has not grown in the past year, and I still do not have any brain lesions. My headaches are more than likely due to the up and down weather and that always beats up my sinuses. I experienced one headache that felt like an ice pick going to my right temple, and it took me out for the entire day.

This week, I had my most recent round of scans – a nuclear bone scan and a CT with contrast. I am happy to report that my CT scan shows that I’m stable and unremarkable. The nuclear bone scan also shows that my sternal met remains stable, and I do not have any new mets in my skeleton. The scan did show degenerative changes in my spine and both my knees (!!!!). Great, I’m officially old, ha.

When I saw that my knees are showing degenerative changes, it made me relieved that I gave up running in late 2021. I do miss running, but I actually miss all the time I got to spend with my running friends. I should really make an effort to volunteer for races this year so I can still be part of the community that I love so much. I don’t have to run to still be part of the running community.

The news I got this month feels like such a relief. My birthday is next week, and now I feel like I can celebrate another year on this planet. Every birthday feels like a satisfying fuck you to breast cancer. For so long, I thought I was going to be dead from breast cancer at 40 just like my mom. Here I am, about to turn 43, and my cancer is stable and I’m going to the gym on a regular basis. I have an amazing boyfriend who makes me so loved and happy. The best way I can ever “beat” stage 4 cancer is to keep living my best life.

“You beat cancer by how you live, why you live, and in the manner in which you live.”

Stuart Scott, 2014

Time to get up swinging

During my most recent appointment with my oncologist, I talked to him about my desire to get back to the gym. Before undertaking any physical activity like this, I need to clear it with him to make sure I’m not going to do anything dangerous and hurt myself. The goal, as always, is to avoid ending up in the hospital. After our talk, he told me that he did not have any restrictions for me. My oncologist agreed with my idea for me to see a physical therapist just to get that peace of mind.

Last week, I saw a physical therapist who specializes in working with cancer patients. He had me do a series of exercises after going through my medical history. After we were done, he happily told me that he had zero problems with me going back to the gym. The only restrictions I have are avoiding exercises that could aggravate the pain and discomfort I feel in my sternum, such as push ups (haha) and fly exercises. Other than that, I’m good to go.

The day after my appointment with the physical therapist, I signed up with the new gym that opened up in the North Hills. I have an appointment tonight with a personal trainer to help me get started. To say I’m excited is an understatement. I miss being active, I really do. I just felt so much better physically (i.e., sleep, weight) when I was a runner and going to the gym on a regular basis.

However, I probably won’t ever be an active runner again because I am too afraid of the threat of spontaneous fractures. Given that I had a hysterectomy and I take arimidex, the risk of spontaneous fractures is too high for my liking. (Again, the goal is to avoid ending up in the hospital.) Maybe I’ll try to do a 5K again? I will keep hiking for as long as I can, but training for races where I’d have to pound pavement and beat up my knees, etc.? Nope nope nope. That’s a risk I’m not willing to take.

I have already shown that I can run a half marathon and shit, marathons. I have the medals and the memories. Now it’s time to pivot and adjust to my current circumstances, and that means doing activities that someone like myself can do. I know that lifting weights will be extremely beneficial for someone who is at high risk for osteoporosis. I also have no idea if going back to the gym will help me lose any of the 30 lbs I have gained in the last 2+ years. I truly hope so because about 80 percent of my current wardrobe does not fit me haha. It was either join a gym or pay a small fortune to replace my wardrobe. I’m trying the gym route first.

My recent breakup really showed me that I was stuck in so many ways, and I did not even realize it. I was emotionally stuck in a long distance relationship with someone who made it clear he did not want to move back or truly commit to me. When someone repeatedly says they never want to get married, you should believe them. Trust me. I kept thinking if I proved to him that I was nothing like his ex, then maybe he might change his mind. All that got me was getting my ass dumped and heart broken after 6 years with little explanation. He repeatedly asked if we can stay friends, which I flat-out refused for several reasons: 1) I have plenty friends, and the friends I do have are open and honest with me; and 2) I have no desire to wait around for more emotional scraps from him. To protect my peace, I have blocked him on all social media that I can found, and it has helped tremendously.

I recently met a new man, but I won’t go into details here. My stalker Randy still reads my blog for whatever reason, and there’s a chance that D might read this too. I’m going to keep this new, amazing relationship that’s been making me grin from ear to ear to myself. Let’s just say that I’m not stuck in this respect, anymore. I will never ever ever do a long distance relationship again.

I am proud of myself for picking myself up after this breakup and being the one to put myself back together. I have been accomplishing so much with my cooking, and I have seen a difference with my stomach issues. Once I get back into the gym on a regular basis, I’m going to feel like myself again, and all it took was for me to remember to get up swinging again.

2 Years

It has been 2 years since I was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. Two years since my heartbroken oncologist informed me that the bone biopsy I had confirmed that the breast cancer was now in my sternum. It’s not an exaggeration to describe that day as the worst day of my adult life. My biggest fear – dying of stage 4 breast cancer just like my mother – came true.

On top of that, I was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer during a worldwide pandemic, squashing all those dreams and fantasies about going on bucket list trips. Now that I’m thinking it’s somewhat safe (with the right precautions) to go on these trips, my boyfriend of 6 years dumped me. He and I talked about going on these trips when the time was right, and the time ended up never being right.

Even with all these setbacks, I’m not going to let this stop my plans. I do not need a boyfriend to go on these bucket list trips I have on my list. He might have broken my g-d heart, but I won’t allow this to break my resolve. I have gone on vacations by myself, and I will do it again. If I am having issues walking and might need assistance to keep my klutzy ass safe, then I am sure I can find a friend that would join me on my bucket list trips. (I can hear some of my friends now thinking, “Lara going on a vacation by herself? Dear lord, she will trip somewhere and we will never see here again!”)

As of right now, I can walk and hike relatively well. I’m 2 years into a disease that on average, kills patients after 36 months. I’ve been stable since my diagnosis, and as such, been on my first line of treatment all this time. I am fortunate that I only have one met, and don’t suffer from any chronic pain. If I wait too long, will it backfire and I lose my chance to have these trips without dealing with pain and discomfort?

I can’t depend on anyone else for my happiness, and it’s up to me to make this happen. Only me.